


Away

by TheDragonofHouseMormont



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones, Whouffaldi Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonofHouseMormont/pseuds/TheDragonofHouseMormont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara is on the run through the Riverlands.  At night she meets a mysterious stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away

**Author's Note:**

> Day six, ‘hearts crossed and hope to die’, fire, shaking.

The leaves scratched along her face no matter how she moved to avoid the trees in her path.  The light drifted down in a golden hue, broken by the many layers of green above her as she ran.  The rocks pressed into her bare feet, tripping her up.  Balance was a struggle.  Hadn't she put on shoes? 

The light grew dimmer around her, something filtering out even more of the sun.  She ran faster, forcing her mind not to conjure images of what waited for her in the dark.  She looked up, a branch snapping across her cheek, to see what was stealing away the light.  Small white flakes drifted down from gray skies that loomed over the treetops.  She looked in front of her again, her bruised feet halting at the sight in front of her.  Everything was covered in white, the branches hanging heavy with snow. 

Her feet felt numb below her as she forced them forward.  Reaching out, she touched a leaf before her, watching as the snow tumbled from it and onto the ground.  The flakes still falling slowly down landed on her arms, soothing the stinging cuts and raising bumps along her skin.  She shivered against the cold. 

Something landed with a soft thud on the branch next to her ear.  She turned to look and saw a large raven staring down at her.  The raven croaked. 

Clara woke with a start.  She curled her arms in tighter against the cold before noticing the crackle of a fire behind her.  Rolling over, she caught sight of the small blaze only a few feet away.  She pulled herself closer to the warmth, but stopped abruptly, remembering that she had never lit a fire.  She knew better than to light a fire while she slept, or to light one at all.  Fires attracted all sorts of unwelcome guests. 

Pulling herself to a sitting position, she spotted a figure sitting on the other side of the fire, their face hidden by shadow.  She got on to her feet, still crouched, thankful to feel her shoes and know the dream was incorrect.  The figure moved slightly, their body shifting to face her, and she flinched backward, ready to run. 

"Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" asked a male voice.  She didn't respond, but she didn't run away either, instead she kept her eyes trained on him, waiting.  "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already." 

"You shouldn't have a lit fire," she said, her voice coming out weaker than she'd intended.  She should leave. 

"We'll be fine," he responded.  "I promise.  You should sit down, warm up."  As she got closer to the fire, some of his features came into view in the dim glow.  "What are you doing out here, anyway?" 

She stretched her hands out to the flames, trying to warm her icy fingertips.  "Why do you care?  These are harsh times.  There are many people without a home." 

"Yes, but your clothing is well-made.  You're from a noble house.  Why would a noblewoman be on the run alone?" 

"Perhaps I attacked a noblewoman and stole her clothes." 

"Perhaps," he repeated.  She swore she could him smile in the darkness. 

Feeling crept back into her fingertips with little pinpricks that spread through her hands.  The nights were getting colder all the time.  "My House fought for the King in the North.  We lost, the King is dead, my house surrendered." 

"And so you ran away," the stranger finished.  "It's not safe out here for young noblewoman." 

"Clearly you're not familiar with how _safe_ it is for women in surrendered houses," she snapped. 

He ignored her angry tone.  "It's my experience that surrendered houses are often dealt with diplomatically." 

She glared at the flames in front of her.  "Ah yes, _diplomatically._ "  She wanted no part of men's diplomacy. 

He laughed softly, catching her meaning.  "No, you're right, you don't seem the type to be held as a political hostage or bartered off in a marriage meant to secure your House's loyalty to a House it never wished to serve." 

"You sound like the old maester at Raventree Hall," she smiled, remembering.  "He was nice.  Are you a maester?  You talk like one." 

"Not as such.  I'm not from around here." 

"Essos?"  His accent didn't sound like any accent from Essos that she'd heard. 

"Not exactly." 

"Can you take me to where you're from?"  It wasn't a good idea, she knew, but she wanted to get as far away from all the bloodshed as she could. 

"Did you not have a destination in mind when you ran?" 

She shook her head.  "Just... away." 

"And you trust me?" he asked with amusement. 

She thought about it.  She still didn't even know his name.  "No, but you're the first person I've come across that I maybe could."  She stood up, crossing to his side, and holding out her hand in greeting.  "My name is Clara." 

He shook her hand.  "The Doctor.  I can't take you to where I'm from, but I could help you escape this place." 

"What's in it for you?" 

He shrugged.  "This country has been torn apart by war.  You seem like you could use the help." 

"If I go with you," she began.  "You promise you won't try to hurt me?" 

"I promise." 

She wanted to believe him, but it wasn't enough.  "Swear on the Old Gods."  They hadn't protected the King in the North, but she'd survived this long on her own and she knew it was them who called to her in her dreams. 

"This is the south," he replied.  "There are no weirwood trees here." 

"Doesn't mean they aren't watching." 

"Fine," he answered.  "On the Old Gods.  Hearts crossed and hope to die." 

She nodded.  "When should we leave?" 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't directly state it in this fic because there's no way she'd tell a stranger, but in this Clara is from House Blackwood.


End file.
